


The Frenchman's Formals

by gaudyAficionado



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Assassination, DadSpy, Father Son bonding activity, Fluff, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29414139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaudyAficionado/pseuds/gaudyAficionado
Summary: Spy and Scout go on an important mission together to remove a few high value targets. When they get there, Spy realizes that the only formal wear that Scout owns is a suit he left with his mother before he left. Scout hadn't put together that his one suit was exactly the type of thing that Spy would wear and is doing his damn best to continue to not notice.
Relationships: Scout & Pyro (Team Fortress 2), Scout & Sniper (Team Fortress 2), Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2), Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 79
Kudos: 88





	1. Mission Statement: Spy

**Author's Note:**

> I was viewing Spy's cosmetics and saw the "The Frenchman's Formals" was wearable for not only Spy, but Scout as well. And I needed to write something about it. So here it is.

“Spy? It’s Pauling. Are you there? I got a job.”

Spy stood from his smoking chair and finished the last of his scotch. He walked over to the communication panel on his liquor cabinet and set down the glass next to the decanter. He pressed a button and began to speak.

“Miss Pauling,” He hummed. “To whose back do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ve got three targets, actually. This one’s a big job. I hope you didn’t have any plans this weekend.”

“I always have time for a job.”

“Great! So, actually, this job is going to require a partner. I’ve went ahead and gotten the two of you invitations to a formal dinner in New York City. Luckily, all three of the targets are going to be there, so it will hopefully just be a one night job, and you’ll be back before your team even notices you’re gone. I’ll send you the details.” There was the slightest bit of pause. “I know I don’t have to tell you this, but make sure not to make a scene.”

“Of course,” He said with a chuckle. “Who do you think you are talking to? Scout?”

There was a soft chuckle from the other side. “Yeah, okay then. I gotta go. Thanks, Spy.”

There was a click from the receiver, and he poured himself more scotch. He sighed and swirled the remaining ice cube around in his glass. He leaned against the cabinet in thought for a few minutes before hearing a quiet tone signifying he had received his mission statement. He didn’t know why, but he could feel it was going to be a long weekend.

~~~~~~~~~

The Spy had finished reading his mission statement and packing most of his essentials before he allowed himself a break. The cool night air felt nice on his exposed face as he stood outside, leaning against the metal siding of a particular van. He took a drag of his cigarette and let it out slow when he felt the camper move. Soon, a familiar face stuck out of the door beside him.

“What, were you just not gonna tell me you were standing out here?” The Australian asked playfully.

Spy took another drag before speaking. “Last I heard you did not appreciate me smoking in your van.”

Sniper stepped out of the camper and closed the door behind him. He was wearing baggy plaid pants and his vest. It appeared as if the vest was thrown on as an afterthought, though it didn’t look terrible. 

“Well, you didn’t have to stand out here by yourself.” He said settling himself beside Spy. 

“So what brings y’ out here to see me?” He asked with a grin. “Or did you just _want_ to see me?”

Spy rolled his eyes. It was a little bit of both, but he would never admit it. The Sniper knew that about him, though, and hadn’t seemed to be too upset about it.

“I’m going on a mission tomorrow, and I will be gone for a few days,” He said. He flicked off his cigarette before tossing the butt on the ground, stamping it out with the toe of his shoe. “Let us go inside, shall we?” 

Sniper looked a bit concerned as he opened the door for Spy. 

“Relax, bushman,” He said, stepping into the van. “It’s an easy job. I will be back before you even have time to miss me.”

Sniper followed right behind him, closing the door once again and wrapping his arms around Spy’s waist. “Yeah, not possible, mate.” He said, head resting atop the other’s.

Spy’s red balaclava hid the small flush in his face. He had recently allowed them to be more intimate, but even small, domestic gestures still flustered him. It wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t expecting it. After a few seconds of being held, he relaxed a bit, allowing himself to be embraced. He tried unsuccessfully to look at the man behind him.

“And why is that, bushman?” He asked, the smirk audible in his voice. He knew the answer, but he liked hearing him say it.

“‘Cause I’m missin’ you already,” The Australian said with a smile. 

He lifted his head to look at the Spy, allowing him to turn and return his gaze.

“I’m not leaving until tomorrow,” The Spy said confidently. “How can you miss me if I’m not even gone yet?”

“I dunno, mate,” Sniper said, a grin plastered across his face. “You got some talent.”

The Sniper leaned down and gave the Spy a soft kiss before moving them over to the couch. He held the man gently in his arms, resting his head once more on the other’s. They sat in this soft, loving silence for several minutes before Spy broke it.

“Did you have anything you wanted to do tonight?” He asked smoothly.

The Sniper smirked. “I can think of a few things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have to love tooth-rotting fluff.


	2. Mission Statement: Scout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout gets his mission statement and needs EVERYONE to know it.

“Yeah, anyways, then she says to me, ‘Yeah, Scout, I think your muscles are so big. Make sure to bring your fancy clothes, I wanna go on a date with ya!’” 

The Scout was very animatedly telling Pyro about the call he had just received from Miss Pauling. The Pyro nodded knowingly as he talked.

“So anyways, I’m gonna be outta town for a few days,” He said, sidling up to them. He gave them a small nudge. “Try not to miss me too much, okay? And I’ll try not to have all the fun without ya.”

Pyro nodded cheerily and gave him a thumbs up. 

“Thanks, Pyro! If you wanna borrow somethin’ while I’m gone, let me know!” He gave them a couple rough claps on the back which gave him another happy nod. “I gotta tell Snipes, he’s gonna be stoked! See ya, Pyro! I’ll come find you before I leave!”

Scout was already out the door, waving goodbye to the masked mercenary who returned the wave before going back to his knitting. Scout was outside and banging on Sniper’s door fast even for Scout.

“SNIPES!” He called, still banging on the door. “Snipes, don’t tell me you’re still asleep, I got big news!”

The door was opened and Scout knocked on the air a couple times before fully processing.

“Yeah, I’m up, I’m up, what is it?” Sniper said groggily. He looked like he just rolled out of bed. It took him a few seconds to process that the person banging on his door was Scout. “Oh, good morning, Scout.”

Sniper glanced into his camper before stepping back and letting Scout inside.

“Good morning?” Scout said incredulously, stepping inside and getting out of the way so Sniper could close the door. “Snipes, it’s like 11 o’clock! It’s almost afternoon!”

Sniper blinked at Scout for a second before turning to start a pot of coffee. 

“Yeah, what of it?” He asked. “I don’t have anywhere to be today. I’m not in any rush.”

Scout gave a big sigh and rolled his eyes. “Well, I am!” He grinned. “That’s what I’m here to tell you about!”

He took a proud, triumphant stance. “Miss Pauling gave  _ me _ a mission!” 

Sniper raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving in a couple hours,” He crossed his arms. “It’s in New York City, kind of a big deal. Course I been there before, buncha times, but this time I got a job to do.”

He got closer to Sniper with a devious smile. “And I have it on good grounds that yours truly’s gettin asked on a date by you-know-who.” He winked.

“Oh yeah?” Sniper asked, getting out a mug for the coffee that was soon to be. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you know,” He shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Just a little intuition. She told me to bring my best clothes. Like really nice fancy clothes.”

“I mean that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s gonna take ya on a date, roo,” He said.

Scout scoffed. “Yeah, right. You didn’t hear her.”

“I’m just tryin’ to help, mate. Just don’t be expectin’ too much.” He poured a bit of coffee into his mug and drank it. “Anyways, what’s this big mission gonna be?”

“Nothin’ I can’t handle! Show up, knock a few baddies off the face of the Earth, come home.” He swung a phantom bat. “She wouldn’ta asked me if I wasn’t the perfect fit for the job!”

Sniper chuckled. “Sounds like the job for you, then. You said you’re leavin’ in a few hours?”

“Yeah, but Miss Pauling said I’d be back before you know it, so don’t miss me too much, ya hear?” It sounded more like a threat than an informative statement.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try not to.” He said.

Their banter carried on for a while more, discussing smaller details of their respective weekends. Eventually Sniper spoke up, looking at his watch.

“What time do you have to leave again?” He asked.

“Transport’s comin’ around one,” He said nonchalantly. “Why? What time is it?”

“12:30.”

Scout’s stomach dropped as he raced to the door. 

“Gotta go!” He said quickly, waving behind him as he sprinted off. “Sorry, Snipes, I’ll talk to you later, see you when I get back, bye!!”

“Okay, see ya ‘round, Jeremy.” He chuckled. “Good luck! I believe in you!”

Sniper could see the shitshow now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the support I've been getting on my works! It really means a lot to me that you all care about it! I love you all, you're all my Valentines! <3


	3. Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The partners meet... much to their dismay...

Spy checked his watch and took a drag from his cigarette. His partner was almost late. He didn’t even know why he needed a partner for this job. In fact, if they did not show up before the transport arrived, he would leave without them. Three targets in a single event wouldn’t be much for him in the first place.

Almost as soon as he had made up his mind of the fact, he heard the noise of someone approaching behind him. Someone running, sprinting in fact. He recognized the quick steps and visibly deflated.

“ _Mon Dieu…_ ” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned around.

The Scout sprinted up beside him before skidding to a stop. The boy doubled over to catch his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. After a few seconds, he looked up.

“Oh, hey,” The Scout said between breaths. “Fancy seein’ you here.”

Spy took a deep breath. “Yes, quite a surprise.”

“Well, what’re you doin’ here?” He asked, standing back up and starting to swing his arms back and forth. The Spy looked at him for a second, waiting for him to realize on his own. A few seconds passed before Scout spoke again. 

“What, you just gonna… just gonna look at me?” He crossed his arms. “I don’t got all day.”

The Spy barely hid his disbelief behind a puff of his cigarette. 

“I have been tasked with a mission.” He sized Scout up. “If I’m not mistaken, you’d be… my partner.” His annoyance and dismay seeped through his words.

Scout squinted at the Frenchman for a second before a wave of realization visibly washed over him.

“What? You- B-” The Scout stammered and hopped around on his toes in an agitated pacing. “No, you can’t be the- Why-”

The Spy turned around, pulling out his communicator, cutting off the boy’s words. Within seconds, he had Miss Pauling on the other end.

“Spy? What did you need?”

“Miss Pauling, was there a reason you decided not to tell me that _Scout_ was my mission partner?” His cold annoyance had returned.

“Oh, that.” She said. “Yeah… I didn’t think it was an important detail.”

“And why is that?” He almost growled at her. “It changes _everything_ . I didn’t need a partner for such a simple mission in the first place. I did not sign up to be a _babysitter_.”

“Hey!” The Scout exclaimed.

“ _Silence,_ Scout. I am taking a call.” 

The Scout huffed angrily in response.

“Spy, trust me on this one.” Pauling said. “You would stick out more alone than with Scout on this one.”

“I don’t think that’s even possible,” He said, looking over at the grumpy man adjusting the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “What did you even tell him we were doing?”

“The same thing I told you,” She said. “But look, Spy, you gotta trust me. Remember, if you guys mess up, I’m the one that has to clean it up. I wouldn’t have assigned the two of you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

Spy took a drag of his cigarette in silence and watched the Scout. He was looking up at Spy trying to hide the nervousness of his gaze. He fidgeted and wiggled under Spy’s calculative gaze for a few long seconds before Spy turned away once again.

“Fine.” He said.

“I knew I could count on you, Spy. The transport will be there any minute now.”

Spy spotted movement far down the road, a RED delivery vehicle warped by the desert sun reflecting off the asphalt.

“I see it.” He glanced down at his watch once more. “Right on time.”

“Perfect!” Pauling said. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

The Spy slipped his communicator back into his breast pocket and looked back over to the Scout. He placed a hand on his large suitcase.

“The transport vehicle is almost here. I hope you haven’t forgotten anything.” 

The Scout gave a nervous, lop-sided grin and chuckled. “Nope. Ready as I’ll ever be.”


	4. Airport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pair arrive at the airport.

Spy stepped out of the transport vehicle and immediately lit a cigarette, watching as the driver pulled his suitcase out of the back. The drive had been hellish. Not only had he been stuck in the confined space with the Scout for an extended period, but the van didn’t have air conditioning. The desert heat had stuck his suit to him in all the wrong ways, and the little rat wouldn’t stop squealing about it the whole time.

He handed the tired looking driver a 100 dollar bill in exchange for his luggage. He didn’t have to tip their driver, certainly not, but he could tell that Scout’s whining wore at him just as much as it did Spy. The driver seemed surprised, but before he could say anything, Scout ran around the other side of the vehicle.

“Fresh air at last!” He cried, taking his cap off and shaking out his hair. 

After he replaced his cap, Spy took a drag of his cigarette and nodded the driver away. After a moment of hesitation and a cold look from the Spy, he took the memo and got back into the van. Spy stood unmoving, watching the van drive away as Scout bounced off the metaphorical walls around him, finally free from the metal box they had been sitting in for over two hours. As soon as the van was out of sight, he took a final drag of his cigarette and flicked the butt onto the ground with a sigh. He was not ready for this, but it had to be done.

In one swift motion, he pulled off the balaclava covering his face and hair. He suddenly changed his mind about being done with his cigarette. He put the ski mask in his pocket and ran a hand through his dark brown peppered hair, briefly wondering if he had time for another smoke. That thought was almost immediately interrupted.

“S-Spy!” Scout stammered, still louder than he could ever dream of being. He had frozen in his tracks and stood staring at the Spy. 

He immediately decided he did need that cigarette after all. He pulled out another cigarette and lit it. Only after taking a long breath and releasing it did he respond.

“What is it, Scout?”

“Your… Your mask,” The Scout seemed almost flustered for some reason.

“Yes, what of it?” He asked. “Is there anything more suspicious than a man in a ski mask walking into an airport?”

“Well, I mean… I guess not, but…” The Scout seemed to be avoiding looking at him and shrugged. “I dunno, I just didn’t think about it, I guess.”

“Did you expect me to just remain in my mask for the whole mission?” Spy asked, mildly amused by the proposition.

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“Then you were mistaken.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Spy looked him over. Scout was extremely uncomfortable and held himself in a way that conflicted with his normal overly confident attitude. Spy’s first reaction was to taunt him, but something in the back of his mind told him not to. He had to spend the rest of the weekend with this boy. It would behoove him not to start a fight.

“Let’s get going, shall we?” He said calmly. “Unless you have anything else you’d like you point out.”

The Scout shook his head.

“Good. Then let’s move.” He grabbed his suitcase and began rolling it towards the airport’s main entrance.

~~~~~~~~~

Scout did _not_ like this one bit. He had no idea Spy was just gonna… pull that outta nowhere. It maybe should’ve been expected, but he wasn’t thinking about it. It didn’t feel right. 

What he hated the most about it was how familiar he looked. He couldn’t place it, but he had a feeling he had seen his face before. He didn’t know how that was possible. Spy had never let anyone see his face before. Thinking about it now, he might be the first person on the team to see it. So why did it seem familiar?

He was distracted, just following the older man through the airport, lost in his thoughts. It was a while before he was broken from it. Something was held out in front of him. He looked up and saw Spy holding out a piece of paper to him.

“Your ticket, Scout,” He said. “You will need it to get on the plane.”

He took the paper and looked around. Somehow they had gotten to the gate. He blinked as he saw a crowd of people getting in a line near the boarding exit. He scratched the back of his head and chuckled.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” He had no idea how he managed to forget that he needed a ticket.

He received only a nod from Spy as they got in line. He looked over the paper and clutched the strap of his bag tightly. It suddenly hit him that he’d only ever flown once before, coming to New Mexico from Boston. The thought made him feel small, a smallness that made him feel like a child in the mall threatened to be taken away by Old Nick. He subtly inched closer to Spy and hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

They got to the gate and approached the ticket taker's counter. Scout watched intensely as Spy handed the lady his ticket with a smile. He didn’t want to mess it up. The lady took the ticket and glanced at the Scout before looking back to Spy.

“You goin’ on holiday with your son?” She asked him with a friendly smile. They both froze and she could tell she had said something wrong.

They looked away from each other quickly, seeming… flustered? They both reacted almost in unison.

“What? No! He’s not my-” They both seemed to stop before finishing the sentence, realizing their own behavior. Spy gathered himself and straightened his tie.

“We’re on a business trip. As coworkers.” He said, any faux camaraderie gone from his voice.

The attendant looked down, seeming embarrassed. “Right, sorry. My mistake.”

Spy took his ticket back as soon as she was done checking it and walked through the gate onto the plane. Scout handed his ticket over and wrung the strap of his bag tighter. He didn’t look at the attendant as she worked. How could she say something like that? His dad was dead. He didn’t have a dad. He never knew his dad, and he never would. 

“I’m sorry,” She said, handing him back his ticket. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Scout snatched his ticket from her and started heading through the door. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. It’s fine.”

The plane was much smaller than he had imagined. The small area was full of chaotic people trying to get to their seats. He had no idea how he did this the first time. He made his way down the aisle, squeezing past people to get through.

“Ahem!” 

He looked beside him to the sound of the voice. Spy sat in the window seat in a row of two, looking at him expectantly. He had almost walked past him without even realizing.

“Going somewhere, Scout?”

Scout slid into the empty seat next to Spy, pulling his bag around him into his lap with a nervous chuckle.

“Was just seeing if you would notice,” He said.

“Right,” Spy said in response. “You can put your bag in the overhead compartment.”

“Uh, yeah, right,” Scout stood. He slid his bag in the empty space above his seat and closed the door to the compartment. 

“I knew that,” He said as he sat back down.

“Scout, have you ever been on an airplane before?” The spy asked with a sigh.

“What? Yes! Of course I have!” Scout said defensively.

“Right,” Spy said, crossing his legs and looking out the window. 

Scout’s anxiety only grew as people settled in and the staff prepared for take off. He was having trouble sitting still. Both of his legs bounced, fast and uncontrollably as he looked around the plane. He didn’t like the idea of being off the ground, if he was honest with himself. If something went wrong, he was stuck there. Trapped in the air. Or the alternative.

“Scout.”

Scout looked over and saw the Spy was looking at him. “What?”

“Are you afraid of flying?” He asked, looking him over.

“Pft, what?” The Scout crossed his arms and looked away. “No. If anyone’s afraid of airplanes, it’s you.”

There was a second of silence and Spy sighed. Scout looked over and saw one of his hands was held out to him, the other covering his face.

“Scout, if you tell _anyone_ I am letting you hold my hand, I will gut you.”

Scout looked to the hand, to his travelling partner and back before looking away.

“Like I’d want to hold hands with _you!_ You’ve probably got some weird disease. Bet that’s why you always wear those gloves! Speaking of, when was the last time you even washed those things?”

Neither of them acknowledged Scout’s death grip on Spy’s hand. Scout lasted for about 30 minutes after take off before he passed out. After he was soundly asleep, Spy called a flight attendant to his seat.

“Is there any liquor on this plane?” He asked over the Scout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: doesn't post anything for 24 hours  
> Me: Dear god, I'm washed up, everyone probably thinks I'm dead. They probably think I'm done with TF2 forever, oh no!


	5. Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pair arrive at the hotel!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew a spy boi!
> 
> You can find him [here](https://twitter.com/VarienBlueblood/status/1363393086920024065?s=19)!

Scout stretched as he jumped out of the car. He had been sitting for way too long now and needed to move. He jumped around and fidgeted as he grabbed his bag from the back and slung it over his shoulder. He looked up at the skyscraper in front of him, bouncing on his toes. He had almost forgotten how small a big city would make you feel.

“This is the hotel, then?” He yelled over his shoulder. He glanced and saw Spy was walking up beside him, giving him a short nod. “Looks like a pretty schmancy place!” He chuckled.

Spy didn’t reply, instead opting to pull his luggage inside in silence. Scout followed quickly behind. _Yeesh_. He thought.

The lobby was stunning and grand and everything was shiny or glowing. The tiles were silvery squares, polished to an almost mirrored reflection. The walls were adorned with art and decorated with pillars reaching to the high ceiling. In the space above their heads, a glittering chandelier hung, dazzling like a thousand diamonds. Scout was in awe. It looked just like a movie scene.

“Please look at least a little dignified,” Spy said quietly over his shoulder before speaking with the receptionist. “Reservation for De Clare.”

The receptionist nodded and within a few moments had two room keys in his hand.

“Here you go, sir,” He said with a smile. “We’ll have a bellboy bring up your luggage for you. Have a wonderful stay.”

Spy thanked the man with a small smile before turning back to Scout. He was about to speak, but the younger man spoke first.

“Claire, huh?” He teased. “Kind of a girl’s name isn’t it?”

Spy sighed. “You work with a man named Jane Doe. And it’s De Clare. It is a last name. Hotels do not usually take reservations on a simple first name basis.”

Scout crossed his arms as he watched an employee leave with Spy’s things.

“Your last name is De Clare?” He asked as if he had uncovered a secret clue.

“No,” The Spy said unphased. He started making his way to the nearest elevator, leading Scout to follow him. “Speaking of the topic of names, you will call me Antoine.”

“Antoine?” 

“Yes.”

“Wait what?” Scout seemed confused. “Why?”

Spy blinked at him for a second before speaking. “You cannot seriously expect me to show up to a function and allow myself to be addressed as ‘Spy.’”

“Oh,” Scout scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I mean, I guess that makes sense…” He was silent for a few seconds as he thought. “So you’re gonna have to call me Jeremy?”

Spy seemed caught a little off guard, if even for a millisecond. 

“No. Absolutely not. I will do no such thing,” The pair stepped into a solitary elevator and Spy waited for the doors to close. “You will need an alias.”

“An aliens?” Scout asked.

“No, a,” The Spy pinched the bridge of his nose. “You will need a fake name.”

“Oh, like… uh… Thomas!” Scout said, bouncing as he thought.

“Good. Now you need a last name as well.”

“Uh…” He trailed off. He looked around frantically, looking for any sort of tidbit of inspiration that would give him a name. “Thomas…… Rrrrunning?” He asked.

“Thomas Running?” Spy seemed incredibly unimpressed and paused a second to stare at him before stepping off the elevator. Scout quickly followed suit, the door closing behind him.

“Yeah!” He said with newfound confidence. “Thomas Running, that’s my name, don’t wear it out!”

Spy groaned as he approached a door just down the hall. He used his room key to unlock it and went inside, Scout right on his heels. Scout was surprised. It was nice, but it wasn’t too nice. It had two beds, a kitchenette, a separate bathroom with a shower and separate bath tub. He was sure the view of the city wasn’t half bad either, but he couldn’t tell from where he was standing.

Spy’s luggage was left beside one of the beds, and he immediately started unpacking his things. Scout claimed the second bed, taking his bag off his shoulder and tossing it onto the flat surface. He immediately joined it and it was a tough call to see who hit the bed first. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

“Hang up your suit,” Spy said. He was, in fact, hanging up suits.

“Ah, it’ll be fine,” Scout said, the essence of nonchalance. 

“Hang up your suit, Scout,” He repeated. “It will wrinkle.”

“Buddy, this thing has never wrinkled in its life,” Scout said confidently, pointing to the bag. “It’s been through way worse than just sitting in a bag for a night, and it’s come out pristine every time. ‘T’s like it’s made of magic cloth or somethin’.”

Spy sighed angrily. “Fine,” He said. “If it is wrinkled in the morning, you will be the one that has to press it.”

“That has to what?” Scout asked, tilting his head to better see Spy.

“You will have to iron your suit yourself if it has even a single wrinkle,” Spy said. “You do know how to iron clothes, don’t you?”

Scout chuckled a bit nervously and shrugged as he looked away. “Yeah, yeah totally. I iron my clothes all the time, don’t worry!”

Spy groaned again, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had a feeling he would be ironing Scout’s suit tomorrow morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Antoine De Clare and Thomas Running. Partners in Crime. Literally. They are going to murder three people together tomorrow.


	6. The Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy helps Scout get ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the whole reason I wanted to write this fic. This is it, this is the peak.

Spy had woken up early to prepare himself for the day at hand. He spent the extra time needed to make sure he was clean shaven and that his unruly hair was kept at bay. Usually his mask covered such things, but as he was not only left without that luxury, but going to an extravagant function, he had to pay special attention to it. Despite almost half an hour of fussing, he could only get his hair to lay mostly flat, a small wave ever present in it, giving it the slightest amount of unavoidable volume.

Despite the extra cares he had taken, the Scout had still not awakened by the time he had finished. He nearly growled at the younger man.

“Scout, wake up!” He scolded. When he barely got a reaction, he kicked the foot of the bed. “Scout, I will not tolerate us being late! Get up and get ready!”

The Scout jumped a little with some mumbles at the kick and squirmed around with some grumbles when scolded. With one final, daring “Scout!”, he responded.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming, I’m coming…” 

The Scout rolled around in his bed for a few moments before locating his bag. After digging around in it with one hand for a few seconds, he sat up and pulled it into his lap. After a minute or two of searching, he apparently found what he was looking for and dragged the bag and himself into the bathroom. Spy gave a long sigh and an internal groan as he pulled out his cigarette case and popped it open. He could tell already it was going to be a long day.

After giving himself the luxury of an uninterrupted smoke, he picked out his outfit. He had of course brought more than one suit; it was never bad to be too careful. He didn’t want to pick something too fancy. Miss Pauling did say it was a formal event, but if he was going to be going with _Scout_ he couldn’t wear anything close to his finest. He eventually settled for an expensive but simple three piece suit with subtle gold embellishments. He paired it with his Cloak and Dagger and his Dead Ringer as a pocket watch. He didn’t really intend on using his Dead Ringer at this function, but it was handy that it accessorised perfectly in place of an actual pocket watch.

By the time he was dressed, he looked dashing as a marquis, but reserved enough that he could fade from view at any moment and not be missed. Not to mention, it was probably not going to leave Scout too far in the dust. As he began adjusting his tie out of habit and straightening out his cufflinks, he heard the door to the bathroom open slowly. You can’t even think of the devil these days, can you?

He turned to appraise the younger man and the two locked eyes with each other in shock. The Spy blinked, stunned as he saw the boy wearing a suit almost identical to his. A simple but expensive three piece suit with subtle silver embellishments. It appeared to be custom tailored, but not quite to his body.

“Scout, where did you get that suit?” He asked, suddenly incredibly focused on making sure his cufflinks were aligned properly.

Scout was also eager to be doing literally anything else. He was trying to fiddle with the tie that was too loose around his neck as he answered.

“My mom gave it to me,” He shrugged, the struggle with the tie only making it looser. “She had it layin’ around and gave it to me.”

Spy was doing his best to suppress his mortification. Of course Claire would have given away a spare suit he had left, but he hadn’t imagined he would have had to see it again on his- her. son. Her son. He quickly grabbed another cigarette from his case and lit it as he walked to the window. He took a forceful drag, causing him to cough out the smoke in a long, hacking fit. When he caught his breath, he spoke.

“Well, finish getting yourself put together,” He said, not looking back.

“Well, heheh, uh, well,” Scout chuckled nervously as he fiddled with the tie as he looked away. He barely mumbled the end “The thing about that… Uh, well… I uh… I never learned how to tie a tie…” 

“What?” Spy looked back. 

The Scout’s tie was pulled loose, nearly double the length it should have been. His cuffs were undone, falling far over his hands. He looked pitiful and disheveled despite the quality of the suit. Spy didn’t like where this was going, nor where he could assume this was inevitably going to end up.

“I don’t know how to tie a tie,” He repeated, gaining a defiant tone. “Y’know, it’s not like I had a _dad_ around to teach me that kind of thing.”

Spy averted his eyes for a second. He had come this far, he could make it just a bit further without losing his composure. He gritted his teeth and took a breath before continuing.

“Ah, I see,” He said, bringing his eyes back up to meet the Scout’s. “We will have to remedy that, then, _non?_ ”

He approached the tie and gently untied the fabric. It was mostly unravelled by that point anyways, so it took only the slightest tug to fully release it. He took one end of the tie in each hand and began to show the boy how to tie it together.

“After you fold it around this side like this, the wide end should be in front. Then you thread it through the back and through the knot.,” He pulled the tie up to the Scout’s neck. After a second, he pulled it loose once more. “Now you try.”  
  
“Spy, come on, really? Just… put it back!”

“What was the point of this if not to teach you to tie it. If you are going to have such a nice suit, you have to at least know how to tie the tie properly. Now tie it.” He put the two ends of the tie into Scout’s hands.

Scout looked up at the Spy who was now looking at him expectantly, hands behind his back. He looked from the Spy to his tie. He carefully wrapped the longer end of the tie around the other before looking back up for approval. Spy gave him a single encouraging nod and waited for Scout to continue. Scout twisted the tie up and through the hole of the neck. He felt a gentle tug on the fabric and saw the Spy was pulling on the underside of the tie, to which Scout acquiesced.

“This is right, you just have to be careful to keep it flat.” 

Spy untwisted the fabric and returned it to Scout’s free hand. Scout looked hesitantly to Spy before continuing. He slipped the end through the knot, making sure to keep the fabric straight as he pulled it through.

“Excellent,” The Spy said, straightening the knot. “And to pull it tight, you just pull this side.” The Spy pulled the Scout’s tie tight and straightened it further. “With practice you will get the hang of it. And after it’s flat and fitted, you pull your collar down and tuck the tie into your vest.” He folded down the Scout’s collar and opened the front button of his suit jacket. 

“Scout, where is your vest?”

“Oh, I left it in my bag,” He said, pointing back into the bathroom. “You can’t see it under the jacket, so I didn’t figure I needed it.”

“You need it.” Spy stated.

“But you can’t see it under the jacket!”

“Go get it.” His tone left no room for argument, and the Scout huffed as he gave in. 

He left and soon returned with a cool, silver-toned vest. Spy took the Scout’s jacket off his arms and held it as he put his vest on. It still seemed to be in decent shape despite the years and whatever hells he had to assume Scout had put it through. As Scout finished putting on his vest, the Spy felt the breast pocket for any contents. He carefully folded the jacket over the back of a chair as he straightened the boy’s vest and pulled at his sleeve.

“And where have you put your cufflinks?” Spy asked as he aligned the sleeves.

“My what now?”

“Your cufflinks,” Spy paused for a second before holding up his arm and showing his gold cufflinks. “The silver clasps for your sleeves.”

“OH, that’s what those are for?” Scout scratched the back of his head as he chuckled nervously. “I never could figure out what those were for.”

The Spy raised an eyebrow. “Then what did you do to clasp your sleeves?”

“I just kinda… stuffed 'em up in the jacket sleeves,” The Scout said nervously with an awkward, pained smile. “I’ve only worn it once. To prom.”

“You wore this suit to _prom_?” The Spy asked incredulously.

“Well, yeah, it’s the only suit I got. What? Mister Fancy Pants ‘Due Clair’ think his prom suit was better?”

“I didn’t have a prom, Scout. Where are the cufflinks?”

“Oh, uh, yeah!” He chuckled. “Good question! Better question: You never went to prom?”

“That’s a statement and not a question,” The Spy said, releasing the Scout’s sleeves and opening the closet he had hung his suits in. He reached in the breast pocket of one of his suit jackets as he spoke. “I will lend you a pair of my cufflinks, but if I do not receive them back, there will be hell to pay.”

The Spy pulled the Scout’s sleeve taut and folded the first cuff over onto itself. It was clear the sleeves had not been folded properly since he had last worn it. As he cuffed the sleeve, he explained how the cufflinks worked.

“Since these are French cuffs, you have to fold the cuff on itself like this before putting the cufflink through all four holes.” He stopped for a second as the realization of what he said hit him. He wasn’t sure if Scout had picked up on it, but if he hadn’t, he had to have after Spy’s pause. 

Spy flipped the cufflink closed and silently cuffed the other sleeve. He picked up Scout’s coat and handed it to him before walking to the door.

“I am going to find some food. Finish getting yourself ready before I get back.” He said opening the door.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I got it. Make sure to get me somethin’ good!”

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Title maybe makes sense now, if it didn't before. I wrote all these previous 5 chapters exclusively to have a reason to put Scout in his singular suit. To all of you folks who were worried about people saying "Oh wow yall are related!" I have this to say: They are now wearing almost exactly the same suit, and Scout's suit is Made For Someone, but that Someone isn't Him.


End file.
